


The Journey

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fantastic Racism (mentioned), Fantasy Racism (mentioned), Orsimer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Tashok wasn't from Skyrim: she was from High Rock, or so she thought, her true origin being a mystery to her. High Rock isn't the best place for an orc, so she left by ship and looked only forward.





	The Journey

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Dovahkiin's story, from the start, based on the mod "Live Another Life". She leaves High Rock since the employment prospects are poor for her, and hopes she can pursue alchemy and magic in Skyrim.

Tashok awakens not quite knowing where she is; nothing is familiar. Instead of her rickety bed in the basement of her caretaker’s home, she’s on a thin mattress atop damp wooden planks. As a matter of fact everything around her is damp and smells of mildew.

Right, the ship…

She’s aboard a ship, headed for Skyrim. The cheapest one she could find. She doesn’t have much in terms of savings and she most certainly did not plan on blowing it all on the trip to her new life. Her old home, if she could even call it that, had grown less and less tolerating of her presence as she herself grew up. Her caretakers, some fishermen and dock workers, who up until that point had been kind enough to take her along with three more stranded orc children, convinced her it was time to leave, as they had the others.

“There’s not real future for an orc here, you know that.” one of their voices rang through her mind.

“Your teacher could never take you as a paid worker, the boss wouldn’t allow it.” another had said.

“Be realistic.” was what they’d always told her and her blood-siblings.

Yamac was the first to go, being four years her senior, and he’d made for Cyrodil to try and make his fortune as a gladiator in the famed arena.

Ghara had decided to make for Hammerfell in the hopes of being a sellsword along with her twin Yagha.

And Yorag… No one really knew. He’d disappeared before his 18th birthday two years ago, not a word to anyone as to where he was going, only a note addressed to her bidding her farewell.

And this was before her mistake. Afterwards it became along the lines of...

"No one will hire you in the entire city!"

"He could involve the guards... you don't want to end up in prison, do you?"

"You're lucky enough he didn't press charges."

"People talk... they might try and take justice into their own hands."

 

A chill runs through Tashok at that moment, though whether it was from the newfound loneliness or the harsh wind _somehow_ making its way to the hull, she can’t be sure. This is day three of who knows how many, and Tashok is already sick of it. 

From the corner of her eye she spots a flurry of movement coming from a furry creature. Turning her head she sees it more clearly: a small kitten, being taken back by its mother towards a darker part of the hull. Tashok has heard of crews keeping cats around to deal with pests; this one must’ve had a litter about a month ago, judging from the quick look she’d had at the kitten. The crew mustn't have realized it. No way they'd keep a whole litter on.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stands, curious to find out where the mother and the kitten where hidden away. Perhaps with proper company this trip won’t be as bad as she had previously thought. She wraps herself within her cape and takes slow steps towards the shadows where the cat had disappeared into. Surely enough, two more kittens were hidden away in a broken barrel: the wayward one is white with blue eyes. The other two include a tabby with green eyes, and a solid grey one with golden eyes. 

The mother becomes tense as she approaches, and Tashok decides to try her luck at being as non-threatening as possible, though this can be hard considering her physique. While not as burly as her fellow orcs, she is just as tall. She opts to sit a small distance from the barrel against a wall, and opening her journal to make it seem like her attention is not on the cats.

She eyes her handwritting, surprisingly neat considering who had taught her to write and read. After being taught the basics, she had continued to pursue books and copy the text onto chalkboard, until her handwriting became something uniquely hers. Another thing she had grown obsessed with writing was her own name: Tashok. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing truly hers; it had been hastily scribbled onto a piece of parchment and tucked into her blanket before being left with the other young orcs inside an old shack. She couldn't remember who had written it, what with being an infant, and even Yamac seemed to be missing his earlier years.

Before leaving High Rock, she had decided to give herself a last name in the way she knew traditional orcs did. And so, she'd written it into her journal and onto the ship manifest for the first time, feeling wistful but confident.

Tashok gra-Wayrest... it felt stranger, seeing a surname being attached to her name for the first time in 19 years.

Her childhood home travels with her, but will always be a thing of the past. Perhaps when she comes into her proper path, she’ll change it again to reflect who she’ll have become.

Tashok the Brewer… Tashok the Alchemist? Tashok the Maker.

She chuckles to herself as she writes down all her silly name ideas.

That’s when she notices the cat approaching her, cautious, studying her for any sudden moves or ill intent. It stares at her, smells the air near her, then bolts back to the barrel. A few minutes later she approaches again, closer this time, before rushing back to her children.

This goes on for a few hours, with Tashok patiently waiting, occasionally glancing at the cat before turning her gaze again.

Her stomach begins to protest its lack of food, which prompts her to take out pieces of jerky and rip out small bits which she pushes closer to the cat. The cat eagerly takes it all, smells Tashok’s hand for more and allows her to inch closer, bit by bit, until she was right next to the small den.

She falls asleep with a cat by her side.

—

The crew tells her they’re almost to Skyrim, as if they haven’t been saying that to the passengers for the past three weeks. The trip has been made much more pleasant by the small family of cats keeping her company, along with a human family, Redguards, who’d also taken a liking to the small animals.

They’ve especially connected with the tabby and the white kitten, now around nine weeks old, while the grey one, lovingly dubbed Pearl, has been following Tashok like a shadow. The mother often seems nowhere to be found, seemingly trusting the humans and the Orc to care for her offsprings.

Pearl appears to enjoy hiding amongst Tashok’s clothes, especially now that the ship has entered such a frigid environment. Many people have begun to get sick, or lethargic, while those with enough energy had taken to complaining to the captain that they must be off-course, as there’s no way Solitude would be this cold at this time of the year, topped with the unusually long voyage.

Tashok doesn’t care where they end up, if she gets to land, any land, she’ll be happy.

—

It’s a few days later that she awakens to more bustling than usual; even Pearl has left his usual spot on her chest and is pacing around her head, meowing and pawing at her face. Tashok grumbles before moving him off of her, then sits up and stretches. The cold makies her entire being ache, even after throwing on her cloak and scarf, which Pearl sneaks into as soon as they're on. She slowing climbs the stairs to the deck of the ship, and what she sees makes her heart flutter.

Through the veil of snow being hurled by the wind, a city surrounded by stone walls at the foot of a mountain. The sensation on her skin is like needles, her cheeks begging to be covered, for her to get out of the blade-like wind, but her eyes are fixed on the approaching docks. Despite the burning sensation it brings, she takes in a deep breath.

She’s here. She made it to Skyrim.

 

Image: handwritten-like font saying;

Sundas. 17th of Last Seed — 4E 201

It’s about time I got off this broken husk of a ship. Maybe if it had been in better condition, the crew could’ve focused on staying on track. I know for a fact this isn’t solitude — it looks nothing like what I’ve been told. Doesn’t matter now. There was no true future for me back in High Rock, unless indented servitude or trying to pry my way into some destitute stronghold counts as a proper plan. I want to create things, brew potions, combine and discover. I’m here now, and I’ll take on whatever this province throws at me. I’ve got to find somewhere to warm up before I do anything else, I’ll ask around for the local inn. Both Pearl and I could use warmth, and a real bed. They have that here, right?

~ Tash

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it? There'll be more NPCs to come in future fics.
> 
> My boyfriend recommended I write out my character's story, seeing as I have plenty of it in my mind. Be prepared for some artistic liberties regarding some plot-lines and characters.


End file.
